


Our Lives Would Make A Sad, Boring Story.

by Mars (MarstheDandelion)



Category: zekes pad
Genre: Fluff, Gay, M/M, Nothing more, This is for my own personal enjoyment, its just fluff, maybe less, personal fic, yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 00:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6590191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarstheDandelion/pseuds/Mars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <b>I don't own any of the characters, or Zeke's Pad.</b>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	Our Lives Would Make A Sad, Boring Story.

**Author's Note:**

> **I don't own any of the characters, or Zeke's Pad.**

In retrospect having the ability to make whatever you wanted reality just by the touch of ability pencil was literally the life hack to, well, life.

But sometimes, I learned, it's nice to do things on your own.

“Zeke, stop touching me, I have to go,” a voice said beside me. That voice belonged to none other than my annoying Jay.

He was always so, _not_ lazy. Here I am trying to save us a little more ‘together’ time, and all he wants to do is leave.

“Jay,” I whined, laying my head on his lap, “Why can't I just draw us up a pizza or something, like always?”

“We haven't been out of the house in _days_ Zeke! _Days,_ do you know how long that is?”

“But I don't see the point of going all the way to store, when I have access to literally everything we could ever need,” I explained, sitting up. 

He was starting to annoy me. He _always_ did this. Always whined and cried about how we weren't being active enough. But when I suggest doing _other_ things he'd always makes up some lame excuse as to why we couldn’t.

_“I don't feel good, Zeke.”_

_“What if it hurts?”_

_“I'm hungry, and we need food.”_

He made me want to punch him sometimes, but I knew I could never do that, so I always end up going along with whatever excuse he maked up.

“Whatever, Zeke,” he started, getting up from where he sat, “you do what you want, but im off to the store.”

I suddenly felt cold, it was strange, how warm humans were, and how you could get used to that warmness.

“Wait,” I mumbled, grabbing his hand, “ I'll come too.”

He gave me one of his stupid smiles that he always did when was too lazy to say thanks.

“You're not gonna put on clothes?” he asked.

I'd been sitting in my pj's all day, there was no way I was taking them off, just to put them back on.

“You got me to come, so be happy,” I responded coldly, though I was in no way angry with him. Ever since we became whatever we are now getting mad at him became hard.

We took our skateboards to the shop down the street. 

Because of the fact that Jay was complete trash at boarding, I held his hand, but that was the _only_ reason, or at least that's what I liked to tell myself.

It was around 5 when we made it to the store, but there were still tons of people inside. I hated dealing with these people, but Jay, on the other hand never minded.

He pushed the cart, and I held the boards, that's how it always was when we went out, and frankly it made my time being there a lot easier.

“What do you want to eat?” Jay asked, looking up at me. It was funny how much taller than him I'd gotten, I mean he'd always been shorter than me, but now? It was just like he'd stopped growing or something.

“Dont care,” I mumbled, walking next to him down the aisle, eyeing whatever was on the shelf.

“What about spaghetti?” he questioned.

“Okay.” I nodded.

“Hmm, what do you put in spaghetti?” he said to himself.

He then began to name off ingredients, I loved when he did this.

“Well there's the spaghetti of course, tomato sauce, garlic..”

He'd name off the ingredients to whatever he was making that night repeatedly, and roam around the store aimlessly, just thinking.

If we passed what he mentioned, and we eventually always would, I'd put it in our cart, along with lots of other things, like cake, or soda, or a bag of chips.

And eventually I'd let him know that we were done, and we would go home.

We'd end up spending about 50 bucks every time we come, which, much to Jay's dismay, was about once a month.

“I'll carry everything,” I volunteered.

“I don't need you falling over.”

“I haven't fallen off in months, fyi,” he clarified, fixing his glasses.

Those stupid glasses that get in the way sometimes when we kissed. 

“Whatever,” I scoff, shifting the bags to my other hand, and replacing them with Jay's hand. _Only so he doesn't fall._

So he doesn't fall indeed.

**…**

“So, I was thinking after dinner we could have a little us time,” I suggested, elbowing Jay in the side.

He laughed- I hated when he was like this.

“Why's that funny?”

He didn't respond, and instead continued cooking in silence.

“Fine!” I muttered walking into our living room.

Dinner was ready in a few, I always liked it when Jay cooked. He liked to overdo it with with the flavouring, but eventually I got used to it, and learned to love it.

Spending time with Jay like this, going shopping, and having him cook, was great, but it was also tiring, but honestly he and I should do this more.

Maybe, _sometimes_ , doing things without the pad was better.

We watched a movie after, or we attempted to watch a movie, or Jay watched the movie and I attempted to.

It's just when you wake up with one thing on your mind, that thing never really leaves until you do it.

Like a song stuck in your head, Jay was the stupid song, and touching him was the cure.

“Zeeeke,” he cried, pushing my hands away.

I hated that ugly shirt he wore- I wanted it off.

“Why don't we head on up to bed early today?” I suggested, feeling my pants getting tighter. The fact that I was laying on his lap didn’t really help either.

He looked down at me, and I loved his eyes.

“We've had a long day today, why don't we be good tonight,” he whispered, and then he kissed me, and his stupid glasses hurt my face.

Everything about this was uncomfortable, but despite that, I smiled.

 

What another _lame_ excuse.


End file.
